


Invisible, Weightless

by paenteom



Category: Imperial Radch Series - Ann Leckie
Genre: F/F, Miscommunication, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9493130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paenteom/pseuds/paenteom
Summary: Skaaiat kisses like it's an afterthought.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a drabble prompt meme at some point and felt bad about just letting it languish in my folder full of unposted stuff. Since this fandom could always use more Skaaiat/Awn, I thought I might as well post it!

Skaaiat's lips are warm and dry. She kisses like it's an afterthought, just the soft press of her mouth against Awn's again and again, until she doesn't, until she opens her mouth and bites down on Awn's lower lip, licks insistently inside.

Awn can't stop the moan that escapes her, or the way her hand tightens around Skaaiat's hair and _pulls_. She can feel Skaaiat smiling against her, smug, and hates it; she kisses the upturned corners of her mouth over and over.

Skaaiat's fingers drift down to the waistband of her uniform and slowly sneak underneath. Awn takes a shuddering breath. She opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling of her room, counts the ridges in the metal and lets the sheets glide through her slightly fanned fingers.

"Hey," Skaaiat says again. This time Awn turns her head and looks at her. 

Her eyes are dark, her pupils blown wide. There's a fine sheen of sweat covering her, making the harsh light in the cabin reflect off her skin. Awn can't place the look on her face for a second, until she realizes it's trepidation. 

"Is this–" Skaaiat gestures between the two of them. "Is this too fast? We don't have to–I mean, if you don't want–"

"No," Awn says, and the warmth of Skaaiat's body disappears off her so fast it almost feels like whiplash. Awn immediately, desperately wishes it back.

Skaaiat sits at the foot of the bed on her haunches. She's the one who carefully avoids looking at Awn this time.

"That's fine," she says, the words unusually rushed for someone whose speech is usually so didactic. 

"Skaaiat."

"No, I shouldn't have presumed."

"Skaaiat," Awn says again, her voice as even as she can make it. "I want to. I want you."

The silence stretches on for a few very long seconds, the hum of the ship the only sound between them.

"Oh," Skaaiat says eventually.

"Well," Awn says, tries for humor to diffuse the tension that suddenly fills the room, "you were being quite presumptuous in your haste not to presume anything."

"Oh, you know me," Skaaiat says loftily. "I always act before I think."

Both of them know this isn't true, but neither of them say it out loud.

Awn uncurls her fingers from where they were bunching up the sheets and holds her hand out. 

"Come to bed," she says.

And Skaaiat comes.


End file.
